Feel The Beat
by Birdroe
Summary: Ricky Figueroa was nothing but a wannabe DJ. When he finds an old boombox in the dumpster behind the club he worked at, he decides to take it home. His twin thinks nothing of it. When it starts talking, Ricky decides he's hallucinating. When they hear that the base their father, CWO Figueroa, was at had been attacked, the stereo transforms. OCs Fig Family Fluff unbetad no pairings


Disclaimer: I only own Ricky and Ryan Figueroa, their uncle, Joey, Shawn, the bar owner, and the non-existent bar.

This is set slightly before/during the '07 movie. I don't know how long it's going to be before the twins get the information about the Qatar Base Attack, so I'm playing it safe by saying before/during.

=Chapter One

Laughter filled the air as the couple of young adults walked through the park. The shorter was a young male, blue eyes hidden behind aviator sunglasses. His wild black hair was pulled back into a high pony-tail. Hearing a call, the man and his friend turned. He rolled his eyes slightly, smiled and waved as his companion joined her other friends. He pulled his headset up, the music playing drowning out the sounds of sirens, the ice cream truck, and laughter coming from the city.

"_There's a hard life for every silver spoon..._" The man bobbed his head to the music, stopping at the club he worked at. He was just a bartender, but he was hoping to, one day, become the DJ. He pulled his headset down to rest around his neck, moving behind the bar and going into the employee area, where their lockers resided. He opened his, faintly noting new graffiti, and shoved his belongings inside.

"Ricky! I need help out here!" The young man quickly slammed his locker shut before running out to the bar, quickly helping his co-worker. He pulled a few fancy tricks, ones that took the better part of a month for him to be able to pull off with the skill and talent of an average bar tender.

"Ah, _shit_!" The owner of the club cursed as things died down. "Joey ain't here!" Ricky glanced up at the elderly man, whose graying brown hair was combed over, before returning to making a drink for a nice young lady.

"Hey, Ricky, aren't you a DJ?" His bar-tending buddy asked, drawing attention to him. He looked up, blinking.

"Uh... Well, I've... dabbled, some, Shawn..."

"You can DJ?" The man asked.

"Joey showed me some things but I've never-"

"Then get up there!" Ricky sent Shawn a frightened look before leaving the back of the bar, jumping the two steps that led to the stage. He put the headphones around his neck, the muffs consuming his ears easily.

He put a disc on, slowly letting it play, before making it scratch. He lifted the bass, and scratched the disc again. The crowd dancing glanced up, and the twenty one year old heard a scoffed _new guy_ come from one of the women. He glanced back at his co-workers and boss. Shawn, with his shaggy brown hair and sparkling brown eyes, grinned at him and gave him a thumbs up. His boss was watching him closely, so he looked back down at the system. He pushed the bass up more, before layering on a trance-like rhythm to the music playing.

"Hey... this isn't bad..." One of the people in the crowd said. Ricky didn't grin as he focused on _not __screwing up_. He apparently didn't suck, since he was left up there for an hour. That was when boss came up to him, halting the music.

"Well, let's give it up for our stand-in DJ, Mister Nicky Figora."

"Uh, actually my name is-"

"Now let's give a round of applause for our _professional_, DJ Joey Slamz!" Joey came up and was received with applause and cheers.

"I'd like to thank my co-worker, you're not so bad for a n00b, eh _Figueroa_." Joey emphasized on the proper pronunciation of his surname, though he didn't correct his first name. Ricky sighed and got off the stage, the music pumping up louder than before. He returned to behind the bar.

"Hey, don't sweat man. At least you got to show some of your mad skills, a'ight?" Shawn offered. It didn't comfort the young man as he rolled his eyes. He worked through the rest of his shift, ignoring the incorrect pronunciations of the few praises he got for his short performance.

"See ya t'morrow night man." Shawn bid him farewell at the end of his shift. Ricky smiled tiredly and nodded.

"Later man." His shift lasted for another hour, and he was forever grateful when the end came. He loved his job, don't think otherwise, it was just that everybody tended to forget he wasn't just another Mexican who could be worked to death. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he was Mexican to begin with. For all he knew, his father could be part Spanish or Argentinian.

"You're off Figora! Take out the trash while ya go, will ya!?"

"_Figueroa_...!" He hissed under his breath as he headed into the back and pulled on his jacket, headset, and grabbed his phone and wallet. He ignored the racial slurs that were scrawled on his locker, not bothering to see what some of his co-workers thought of him. He left his aviators to rest on top of his head, pulling his gloves on before leaving. He grabbed the trash bag he had changed not even half an hour ago, taking it out the back. He tossed it into the dumpster, pausing as he saw an old, red and yellow, 80's styled boombox. He reached up and grabbed it, checking the large music machine over.

"Huh... Doesn't look like trash..." He shrugged and walked off, carrying the boombox loosely by the handle with his right hand, left hand in the pocket of his jacket. It was a thirty minute walk to the clinic his genius twin worked at, and then his brother could drive them both home.

"Hey, _Canada_!" Ricky turned at the nickname, seeing a familiar face of an old friend from school across the street, waving with a grin. Ricky offered a grin and lazy wave.

"_Hola Amiga_!" He called.

"How you been?" The seventeen year old asked, crossing the street.

"_Bueno_, Rose." He replied, "What about you? How's school goin'?" Rose rolled her eyes, smiling.

"_Bene, amico_." She stated, "What about your brother and Dad? Ryan's still at the clinic, right?"

"_Si_, _hermano_ is still at the clinic. Dad's... Heh... Dad's in Qatar now, actually..." Ricky admitted.

"What?! Since when!?"

"Few months ago, actually. His leave was cut short. It's alright though. Our uncle is running the farm, so it ain't like Ryan and I had to move back home'r anythin'." Rose offered him a sad smile. She read through his careless act just as easy as any other.

"He'll be fine. I know it. Anyways, I gotta go! Have to go get ready for the convention! You're going, right?" Ricky shook his head.

"My convention days ended with the last one I went to. _Lo siento_, _amiga_. I gotta go; hafta get to the clinic." Rose smiled at him, nodding. She waved before crossing the street again. He turned and quickened his pace some, reaching his brother's workplace in almost fifteen minutes.

"Hey Fig Tree." The familiar grin of his brother's receptionist greeted him first thing.

"_Hola_ Bow-Tie." He teased the woman. She snorted.

"Bow-Tie? That's a new one."

"So is Fig Tree." Ricky's twin stated as he came from the back. "I'm done for the day. Bye."

"See ya boys!" Ricky walked with his young brother to the old truck they've had since they were twelve. The bartending twin dropped the boombox into the truck bed.

"_Ow..._" Ricky paused, looking back at the truck bed. His eyebrows knitted together, a confused frown on his face.

"_Hermano_, you coming or not?" Ryan complained from the driver's seat. Ricky sighed through his nose, shaking his head. He must be more tired than he thought.

"_Si_, _si_." He climbed into the passenger seat, pulling the seat belt on.

"How was work?" Ryan asked him. Ricky shrugged.

"Same old, same old." He yawned. Ryan sighed at his answer, as he always did. Ricky fell asleep during the hour it took to get to their apartment across Las Vegas. Ricky woke up to Ryan gently shaking him.

"We're home." Ricky sighed and got out of the truck, grabbing the boombox from the truck bed. He followed his younger brother into their apartment and dropped the stereo system onto the couch before heading for his bedroom. "You showering?"

"Nah, I'll shower when I wake up." Ricky dropped onto the mattress that was shoved into the far left corner of the room. He let out a groan as he heard his blond twin turn the shower on. Something told him it was going to be a long night.


End file.
